


Sharp Objects

by somekindofgnome



Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes is a self-loathing jackass, F/M, Knifeplay, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26923564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somekindofgnome/pseuds/somekindofgnome
Summary: After a mission goes sideways, you and Bucky spend the night in a safehouse. There, he discovers that you think you're invincible.  You discover that he doesn't think he's worth saving. Both of you are wrong.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Kinktober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946362
Kudos: 80





	Sharp Objects

**Author's Note:**

> Another angsty Marvel fic, who's surprised? There's just something about these characters that says, 'hurt me.'

The mission is an absolute clusterfuck.

Not only do the two of you _fail_ to collect the information you’d been sent to gather, you barely manage to escape with your lives. It takes you an extra hour to get back to the safehouse that night, taking a labyrinth of extra turns and detours to throw anyone who might have followed you off your scent.

By the time the tiny cabin comes into view, it’s well past dark. You and Bucky are both exhausted. And he’s in a mood. He hasn’t said one word to you since you got in the car,a rusty old pickup with no backseat and a window that sticks on one side. Outside, the wind is starting to pick up, and when you kick open the driver’s side door the late autumn chill blows right through you.

Bucky crunches sullen and heavy across the gravel, taking up the rear as you both hurry in. By the time you shut out the wind behind you, the tiny cabin might as well be a luxury hotel. You’re just glad to be somewhere safe.

You let out a sigh as you shuck out of your coat and gloves.

“That was a close call,” you quip conversationally. The silence has stretched so thin between you- you _need_ to break it.

“Like hell it was.” His voice comes so low and grumbly that if you were anybody else, you wouldn’t hear him. But you’re used to reading his mumbles by now. Irritation spikes somewhere behind your right eye and you turn back towards him, arms folded over your combat gear.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, I told you to get your ass outta there. Not jump between me and the fucking bullet.”

“I’m sorry,” you quip, sliding your hands to your hips. “Are you referring to the moment in which I saved your goddamned _ass?”_

“Not an ass worth saving,” he growls back at you, and now you’re going to have to go there. You’ve been _really_ hoping his stormy mood wasn’t caused by this, but apparently you know him better than you ever thought you did.

“No way,” you insist. You’re squaring up with him, but he’s not backing down. He’s close- closer than you’d realized, towering over you like he can scare you into agreeing that he’s disposable. “We’re not going there tonight, Buck, we’re _not.”_

“There’s nowhere to _go,”_ he retorts. “’S just the truth. You got any idea what would have happened if you got _hit_? If you actually got _hurt?”_

“I prefer not to dwell on things that didn’t _actually_ happen.”

He’s had enough. He grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with the weight of his own form. His face is so close that his nose brushes yours, his breath puffing hot over your chin.

“You think you’re so _fucking_ tough,” he hisses, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes to his. You’re not sure exactly where this is coming from, but you’re not about to argue. It’s not the first time he’s gotten a little rough with you. And you’ve made it clear before that you’re okay with it.

He kisses you with _bruising_ passion and you melt into it, bracing your palms against his chest. He loses patience with the foyer quickly and scoops you into his arms. The brace of his metal arm, carrying your weight so securely, is as immensely reassuring now as it was the first time.

He navigates you smoothly across the space of your one-room cabin and deposits you on the bed. In any other situation you might be concerned by the cloud of dust that puffs up around you as you land on the blankets, but you’ve got a pretty good distraction at the moment.

Bucky shrugs off the top half of his tactical gear with practiced ease. Then he’s working away at yours, undoing the straps, buckles, and zipper that hold it together. He shoves the whole thing down to your elbows, then he’s on you again, kissing and nipping down the side of your neck and making you shiver and moan.

You’re just starting to get invested when you spot him reach down his side out of the corner of your eye. He flips his hand back with something heavy and shiny curled in his fingers, and in a sharp jerk he’s got the blade of his combat knife pressed to your throat.

For a moment, you stare up at him in confusion and betrayal, but the lust that glints in his eyes proves that it’s all part of his game.

“I knew it,” he growls. “You get off on this shit, _don’t_ you? No wonder you were so eager to throw yourself in the line of fire for me.”

He presses the knife just a little firmer against your skin- hard enough that you feel the cool sharpness of the blade. But he’s precise, and he knows exactly how still to hold it, so it doesn’t slide against your flesh and cut you.

He keeps the knife there with one hand as he works your combat gear down over your hips. He pulls it away long enough to get his pants undone, but then he’s got the blade at your throat again. It might as well be a steel chain wrapped around your windpipe, since as long as you feel its frosted press, you can’t breathe.

“Gonna fuck you just like this,” he snarls, stroking his cock- already stiff and flushed at the tip. You want to put up a fuss, but you just part your thighs for him and let out another whimper of your own desire. He’s going to find out soon enough, but you’re _soaked_ for him like this.

He lines up with slow, careful measure, but as soon as he’s there he slams into you without mercy. Your spine goes concave as you arch up against him, forcing your shoulders into the mattress to keep your head down and your throat away from his blade.

He flips the blade as he starts to fuck you, pumping his hips against yours with brutal slaps.

“ _Fuck,_ sweetness, you’re dripping for me. I knew you liked it rough, but this is-“

His voice breaks a little as you clench your muscles around his thick cock, earning a gentle stutter from his hips. His gaze is frozen steel glaring down at you, and as he settles back into his rhythm he trails the dull edge of the knife down your sternum. For all the bruising pressure he’s fucking you with he’s gentle with the knife, circling one of your already-stiff nipples with the point and making you keen.

“Bucky,” you plead, gripping the sheets beneath you in a desperate attempt to keep still. You’re ready to plead, but he cocks a brow and grins, not ready to listen just yet.

“ _Now_ you’re all soft for me, hmm? Not so bulletproof anymore.”

“ _Bucky, please,”_ you choke, more desperate this time. The pressure is building to unbearable levels inside you, but you’re not there yet. You need more if you’re going to get there. And he hasn’t decided if he’s going to give it to you.

“I bet I could make you cum just like this.” His voice is starting to tremble. He hasn’t been holding back at all- it’s no surprise that he’s almost there himself. He lays the flat of the knife between your breasts and drags it all the way down to your navel as he shifts his hips downward and fucks up into you at a brand new angle, fast and ruthless.

You get there faster than you have in a very, very long time. The shiver that he created with the flat of the cool knife echoes all the way to the tips of your toes and ends in shockwaves at the pit of your stomach. He’s amplified those shockwaves with the shift in angle, hitting you at just the right spot.

You careen over the edge with a tight scream of pleasure and he keeps the knife pressed flat against your spasming body. He thrusts into you a few more times, then buries himself to the balls and _stays_ there, shaking and groaning your name as he pumps you full of his release. 

When it’s over, he draws himself back and lets you sprawl across the bed, messy and spent. He tosses the knife deftly from flesh palm to metal, then tucks it smoothly into the holster of his half-shucked pants.

He steps the rest of the way out of them and falls into bed beside you. Suddenly he’s tender, and he reaches for your waist with one hand while the other, the flesh one, lifts to cup and stroke your cheek.

“Don’t tell me you’re not worth saving,” you mumble into the pillows. He lets out a snort and shakes his head, stretching out on his side and pulling you close.

“Whatever you say,” comes his quiet reply, and you want to smack him. Instead, you settle further into his arms and slide your own around his bare torso. You draw a deep, sleepy breath as he pulls the covers up around the both of you.

The wind rises, howling past the windows and rattling the door on its hinges. And as it settles, you tangle your legs with his and let your tongue curl around the words.

“You’re worth saving to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's day ten, complete! We're almost one third of the way through Kinktober! Today's prompt was "Knife Kink," and who better to fulfill that fantasy than the knife king himself? 
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed, leave a kudos and a comment and have an excellent Kinktober. 💖


End file.
